“Some one ought to kidnap him,” said Leo.
“Why, that’s illegal!” Jeff nursed his knee, turned his head to one side and chanted thoughtfully:
“Said the little Eohippus,
‘I’m going to be a horse,
And on my middle fingernails
To run my earthly course’——”
He broke off and smiled at Leo indulgently. Leo glanced at him sharply; this was Jeff’s war-song aforetime. But it was to Pappy that Jeff spoke:
“Dad, you’re a better’n any surgeon. Wish you’d go out and look at Leo’s horse. His ankle’s all swelled up. I’ll be mixin’ me up a toddy, if Ma’s got any hot water. I’m feeling kinder squeamish.”
“Hot toddy, this weather? Some folks has queer tastes,” grumbled Pappy. “Ex-cuse me! Me and Leo’ll go look at the Charley-horse. That bottle under the shelf is the best.” He bustled out. But Jeff caught Ballinger by the sleeve.
“Will you hold my garments while I stone Stephen?” he hissed.
“I will,” said Leo, meeting Jeff’s eye. “Hit him once for me.”
“Move the lever to the right, you old retrograde, and get Pappy to gyratin’ on his axis some fifteen or twenty minutes, you listenin’ reverently. Meanwhile, I’ll make the necessary incantations. Git! Don’t look so blamed intelligent, or Pappy’ll be suspicious.”